Three years ago I was just writing simple lyrics
I was a angst ridden teenage cynic
Now I write of things with meaning
I try to create poems that are teeming
With thing that will live on for centuries
Something more than sensitive journal entries

Death to convention
Watch the empty words waste away from an unwashed window
And meaningful proclamations grow

I aim to disappoint those looking for the "ABAB"rhyme scheme
And to excite the ones who question their reality and give them wet dreams
My dry nightmare is to see the world cease to progress
And become a giant ball of ignorant **** more or less
Words can be visible but unseen or forgotten
But nothing is mightier than someone with a pencil and an opinion

Give life to new ideas
Feel the words, put yourself in all you create
Life's a wasted ticket if you're not insane